Competitors and Competition
by Lucia Gianetta
Summary: Rahzel pulls up a promotion clause in the boarders' contracts.


Title: Competitors and Competition  
  
Author: Lucia Gianetta  
  
Disclaimer: SSX (Tricky) and its characters are the property of EA Sports, EA Sports Big, Electronic Arts, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only and didn't benefit the author financially. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. 'Sides, dudes, I wouldn't bother suing anyway... a poor high school student struggling to find funds for uni next year isn't a prime target to get cash outta, hehe.  
  
*****************  
  
Zoe grinned down at Elise. "Ummm, okay, last time I checked, the point was to make it *across* the finish line."  
  
"Shut it," the blonde sneered, grasping blindly at her feet, trying to undo the straps while keeping movement to a minimum. She'd been totally winded by the fall, eaten a lot of snow, and something was definitely awry with her right hip; nothing too major, but still an uncomfortable wipeout, nonetheless. Zoe's smug presence wasn't helping.   
  
"Hey now, just a lil' helpful hint there, kiddo," the brunette was saying. "Y'see, I try to impart my wisdom as often as..."  
  
Elise craned her neck after feeling a rush of cold air and flecks of ice blow past a little too close and the coincident silence from Zoe. The distinctive Union Jack design continuing on with the course, while Zoe lay covered in snow and stretching indignantly, hinted that Moby had taken the youth down in passing.   
  
"The nerve of people these days," Zoe declared, her unstoppable proclivity for speech demonstrated perfectly, "I'm tellin' ya, man - absolutely no *freakin'* respect."   
  
Finally kicking away her board, Elise pulled herself into a seated position to dust the snow off her face and goggles. "Get over yourself, Zoe."   
  
"That'll be tough - there's so much to get over. Elise," she paused, "I just plain ol' rock. You suck, I rock. That's how it is. Sorry, kiddo."   
  
The crackle of the announcement system turning on went unnoticed until Rahzel's voice, less charismatic than when masses of fans and media were around, alerted all boarders on the course to get off within an hour. Clean up crews were going to hurry through, new snow would be laid, and any repairs to stands and course equipment would be made.   
  
"Well," Zoe pushed herself up gracelessly with a grunt, "that sucks ass, woul..."  
  
"And will the following please report to the chalet," Rahzel continued unexpectedly. He proceeded to run down the roster of main riders. A few days of easy, relaxing boarding had been in line before the group was flown to Alaska for the last run of the Tricky tour. A well-deserved hiatus was coming up and Zoe had planned on heading to Oregon for some good parties and good biking (not necessarily in that order).   
  
Wrinkling her nose, the brunette interlaced her fingers to crack her knuckles. "That sucks even bigger ass. C'mon, Barbie, let's go." Zoe didn't wait for Elise to follow, instead heading down immediately without a look back.   
  
Elise growled.  
  
******************  
  
Kaori was chirping incessantly into a cell phone, while everyone else chatted or gazed out the windows, both enthralled and longing. After having lunch, which was fully prepared as everyone slowly trickled into the lodge, one of the athletic trainers led the tetchy group to the main observation tower. It was small and had some taping and sound gear stored here and there, while the announcing equipment had a cover spread across most of it to keep curious fingers from playing.   
  
No sooner had the new snow been laid than boarders were out on it; crews were still out working on the course while the unfamiliars whizzed past them.  
  
"She's good," Zoe stated. "They're all good."  
  
Marisol wrinkled her nose, but the expression grew into a scowl. "Pinche cabron," the Hispanic growled. "No, they're not - they're mediocre at best, and I for one don't th..."  
  
"Chica," the younger woman said, placing a hearty, partly patronizing hand on Marisol's shoulder, "they're allowed to be good."  
  
"No, no, Zoe, it's good for her to be worried," Elise pointed out with a sweetness that reached snide, "if anyone's getting replaced, Miss Sunbaked Silicon will be the first."   
  
Rolling her eyes, Zoe stepped away from the now hissing blondes and moved to the other side of the tower, where the guys seemed to have unthinkingly congregated, temporarily ignoring any rivalries. They were watching the next heat attack the slopes with impressed silence.  
  
"New blood will be good, doncha think?"   
  
As Zoe stepped to Moby's right, his hand instinctively went to her lower back for just a moment, before falling back to his side. "Yeah," he nodded, "I reckon it could be, love - 'specially, lot of 'em are right bloody proper."  
  
"Properly bloody's more like it," Psymon decided with a toothy grin, watching one boarder in particular. He or she - he really couldn't tell from the distance - was reckless and the only style present within the presentation was the consistent *lack* of style. The display actually made for a pretty good show. There were a few others that put on a similar performance, with the madcap jumps and insane speed in all the wrong places.  
  
"Mmmk, any thoughts?"   
  
Everyone turned to the center of the room to find Rahzel had arrived with a couple young corporate lackeys in tow. The normally grandiose and charismatic announcer was dressed just a little more sharply than usually. Just a little.  
  
Zoe snapped a small backward parody of a salute, saying, "They're good, chief, but..."  
  
"But what's up with all this?" Elise finished for her.   
  
"Yeah, man," Zoe nodded, pulling back into the conversation, "gettin' tired of hauling *our* lazy asses around or something?"  
  
One of the suited lackeys shook his head. "No, no, no - nothing like that. They will be an *entirely* new league! Thread Boarders! And we just thought that being veterans, you could give us your opinions - who better, right? Maybe spend the next week interacting and..."  
  
The lackey fell silent when Psymon growled in his direction, and most in the room, including Rahzel, either smirked or poorly suppressed the urge to do so. When the corporates came in, dressed in their fancy suits and wearing their perfectly shined shoes, seeing them interact with the motley 'athletes' was *always* entertaining. So was seeing their red noses and soaked trouser legs.   
  
"Thread Boarders?" Elise echoed, apparently not keen on the name.  
  
The second lackey, not yet daunted, pulled out a folder and began flipping through it. "Uh, yeah, got the name from... from... damn it, it's here somewhere," he dropped a few papers, but no one made a polite move to pick them up. "Catalion Simkin - I guess it's what a good handful of them call themselves. Er, well, all of them, I suppose." More papers fell. "It... it means something, um, meaningful, but I can't seem... to find it in here. You'll have to ask one of them - it'll be a good conversation opener!"  
  
Running a hand through her hair, Zoe sighed. After exchanging a glance with Moby, she turned her eyes to Rahzel. "This is all for serious, then?"  
  
The announcer nodded with a forced smile. "Yep - if nothing else, good PR to have you guys racing against new blood," he said with enthusiasm he obviously didn't feel. "And might gain us a larger fan base."   
  
"No, no, man, hold up, hold up, yo," Mac wore a half-formed smirk stating his incredulity. "We're done after this, yo - it's the *off*-season. Means we're *off*, Rahzel."  
  
"Besides," Elise chimed in, fancying herself the voice of reason amidst the others, "the weather won't last for an entirely new term."  
  
Recognising that his charges thought they knew better, Rahzel allowed a slow, deliberate grin. "No faith, people - no faith at all. You'll note in your contracts that it states you're obligated to promotion work, as long as you're duly paid for the efforts and your time, and were advised of the terms within a four business days of the event - or, in Elise's contract, a week." His grin grew wider. "All those requirements are met. Except for in JP's contract," he nodded to the man in question, "but that can be discussed privately later, since I doubt it would look too good if *only* you backed out."  
  
The Frenchman grunted and folded his arms, letting his eyes momentarily slip back to the slopes.  
  
Pleased with himself, Rahzel slapped his hands together. "It's a deal then," he said, turning back to the lackeys. "Gentleman, we can discuss the technicalities in the lodge." 


End file.
